One Hell of a Week
by Lillia-Lillia
Summary: Steve recalls a very eventful week with each day bringing more adventure and excitement than the previous. COMPLETE
1. Intro

**Summary: Come see what kind of mischief our favorite boys from Tulsa get into during the course of a crazier-than-normal week. **

**Slightly AU: Dally and Johnny lived, because it just wouldn't be as fun without them.**

**Rated T for the **_**extremely**_** coarse language**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

**One Hell of a Week**

**Introduction**

It was finally Friday at last. This week had been too fucking long and too fucking crazy for anyone's good. Everyone was getting too goddamned riled up all at once. And when one person gets pissed off, they like to fire up all their little friends and then go fuck up the other gang. Socs do it to Greases. We do it to the Socs. Whatever. It fucking happens.

And sometimes it simply just happens for no fucking reason. Mainly because sometimes, we just get pissed off and itch for a fight. Someone will wind up a little bloody, maybe get a little roughed up, but hey, it's no big deal. Hell, someone might wind up with a broken rib or busted fucking face. That's if they're really unlucky. But that's life. Sometimes we're unlucky. But then the skies clear—eventually. And everyone feels better, and we can all go on with our lives. At least until someone got pissed off again. Or we came up with a real reason to fight.

"Steve, are you okay?" Ponyboy asks me. I guess he noticed my fists clenched so tightly, my knuckles were whiter'n a ghost.

"Shaddup, Ponybody." I snap back. Me, him and the rest of the gang—minus Darry and Two-Bit—are outside the racetrack. We had a mind to go watch the ponies, maybe gamble a little bit too.

"Are you sure? You ain't lookin' so good," Johnny adds.

"Shaddup, Johnnycakes." To which I am swiftly clocked in the head by Dally's angry fist. "Aw, c'mon Dal, I only said 'shaddup' to the little shit." To which Johnny clocks me in the head. And I have no problem hitting him back.

Damn these guys I call friends. All six of them. Even Ponyboy, sorta. I love them all, but they can be a right pain in the ass sometimes. Especially Dally. He's usually the one who's riling up the kids. Ponyboy and Johnny wouldn't do half the things they do if Dally wasn't around. Hell, none of us would neither.

But I still love Dally for bein' insane, and this week, it was Dally who started the shit. Actually, it's generally Dally who starts the shit. Surprise of the century, I know. He's been wild since Monday and it's been building right up to today. And as we're standin' here at the racetrack, Dally and me a little bit drunk, I know is gonna be the day the shit really hits the fan and splatters every which way.

So lemme give a little play-by-play action of this week's events…God, what the hell happened on Monday? It was so long ago, I can barely remember…

**Just a little idea that's been sitting in my "Documents" folder for a long while. The whole thing's pretty much written, just getting proof-read.**

**If it's well-received, I'll keep posting more. Thanks! (I love reviews)**


	2. Monday Part 1

**On Monday, Steve and Dally go to the Dairy Queen. What's the worst that can happen?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

**One Hell of a Week**

**Chapter 2 Part 1: Monday**

So what happened on Monday…oh yeah, I remember now. Monday, we was hung over as shit from the party me, Dal and Two-Bit were at the night before. When I opened one bloodshot eye to face the world, I found I had me a splittin' headache and I was thirstier than a cactus in July.

"Dal, Two-Bit, get up." Me and Dally was asleep on Two-Bits floor. I don't even remember coming back to his house, and I sure don't remember nobody driving us neither.

Dally cussed me something all incoherent and sat up, rubbing his eyes with one hand and his crotch with the other. Two-Bit rolled over. "Sorry, sunshine, I'm too tired. I need my beauty-sleep."

"What the hell time is it?" Dally asked groggily.

I looked outside and the fucking haze and sunlight damn near blinded me. "Can't be before one o'clock." I got to my feet, holding my aching head, and Two-Bits fucking house spun. "God, fuck hangovers!"

Two-Bit covered his drunk-ass head with his arms. "Turn off the sound!" he hollered, "If I wanted sound, I woulda stuck my head down a victrola!"

Dally stood up, disentangling himself from the jacket he was sleepin' under, and me and him left. It didn't take us too long to find out that ain't nobody was around. Everyone else had somewhere they fuckin' needed to be. The kids was in school—yeah, even Johnny went in today, Darry was roofin', and Soda had took himself an extra shift at the DX station. Me and Dally was bored shitless, so we decided to take a drive in Buck Merril's thunderbird which Dal hadn't yet returned.

We skidded the thunderbird up to the Dairy Queen down quite a ways on East 19th Street. It was hot and hazy out, and I was already sweatin' like a pig. "Got a cancer stick, asshole?" I asked Dally as we got out, looking for shit to do or something to break.

He handed me one and started walkin' round the back of the building. "Don't follow me, I'mma take a piss. And judgin' by the fact I think I got lucky yesterday, it might take me a while." Nasty. I pulled a face. "Go get us some cokes or something, man. It's hot out."

As I wandered into the store, I wish I'd looked around a little harder to see who the fuck was in there. Because if I had, and remembered people's fucking faces, maybe I woulda seen who fucked up our tires. See, while Dally was takin' a leak on the side of the building—it don't matter that they got a perfectly functioning pisser inside the DQ—someone went and took revenge on Dally via the thunderbird. They didn't slash up the tires or nothing, but they popped off all the lug nuts. Every goddamned one of them. Dally woulda gone slashed their throats if he coulda, but they got away before either of us saw they faces.

When I got outside and saw the thunderbird, I nearly dropped them cokes all over the dusty parking lot, I was so shocked. Dally came round to the front of the building, zippin' up his fly I guess he saw the look on my face because he asked, "What's up your ass, Steve?"

"Someone fucked up our tires!" I answered, running over to the car. Yep, they'd gone and done all four of 'em. That's twenty lug nuts dead and gone. "They popped off them lug nuts!"

"Did ya see who done it?" He demanded, stalkin' round the car like some kind of predator, as if he could sniff out who done it.

"Naw, man, I was getting' the cokes." He snatched the coke I handed him, his face red with rage. He was so mad he was shaking. Dally hated it when anybody messed with him in even the slightest way, and he took it as a personal attack. And then he threw the pop bottle with all his might at the wire fence surroundin' the lot. It shattered into a million pieces.

"Cool it, hood!" shouted a man from the other side of the fence. And damn, was he lucky to be on the other side of the fence, or Dally woulda busted his face.

Dally was fucking livid as his eyes darted round the lot. They landed on some young mother walking out of the DQ with her son.

"Hey you, lady!" he accosted her. She caught one look at Dally's face and knew he was nothin' but trouble. She got herself in front of her little brat, putting herself between him and the threat that was Dally.

"Whaddya want?" She asked. The bitch was obviously scared; her eyes wide and flashing.

"You was in that there Dairy Queen. Did ya see who came out and fucked with my tires?" When she didn't answer right away, he leaned in and shouted, "Did ya! Did ya!" He shook her a bit and turned her body so she could see the worked-over thunderbird.

She screamed and whimpered the moment Dally touched her, and her brat started squalling. Dally just got madder. Damn, he sure hates them little ones. "Quit yer ballin' you little shit! Did you see?" He knocked the woman out of the way and grabbed the kid by the collar. Now the mom was cryin' too and the kid was screamin'.

"Dal, Dal., hey, Dally." I ran over, seeing it was time to intervene in this fucking mess before he did anything really stupid. I grabbed his arms and pulled him offa the kid. Dally shook me off.

Just then, some man stepped out of the DQ and ran over to us. He was one of them gentlemanly guys—the kind Pony's gonna be when he grows up. All soft and simpering and the like. "Lady, are you okay?" He asked, gallantly putting himself between the twos of them and the twos of us. "Get lost, hoods." Bad idea to say that, asshole.

Dally was on him so fast that theys was on the floor before I could blink. A quick roll in the sandy lot and the two was covered in dust, like those powdery cookies Mrs. Curtis used to make. Dally came up on top, sitting on the man's chest, a fist raised like he was gonna punch his lights dim.

"Dally get offa him!" I jumped on his back, rolling him off the guy and the twos of us right into the dirt. I got a mouthful of kicked-up dust, and I guess the other two mother fuckers did too, because the threes of us sat on the ground hacking and spitting while the mother and child cried.

I was the first one up, and I 'm a lucky son'bitch because alls I got was shoulder nicked and my hair mussed up. "Someone jacked our lug nuts," I tried to explain to them. I was spittin' up dirt while holding back a struggling Dally, who was still itching to go at it ever since he got up off his ass. "My friend's just a little worked up. Just let us work this out."

"Why I oughtta call the _po_-lice!" cried the woman, putting lots of emphasis on the start of the word. She had her arms round her screamin' kid, and the brat was hiding his ugly face in her skirt. I'm still a little surprised that the broad didn't follow through on the threat. Dal had done enough to warrant getting hauled off again.

"What the fuck we gonna do?" Dally hissed, kicking the chain fence once we was alone again. He paced round the car in a nervous circle. "It's not like I can drive it nowhere!"

"I dunno,"

"Well, help me out, mother fucker!"

"Whadda you think I look like, the fuckin' auto body shop?" I shot back. But we're like brothers and I knew I'd hafta help him out.

'C'mon, you know cars the best of anyone I know."

I beamed at the compliment, and I know he's right. After all, I'm the best hubcap thief on this side of the Arkansas River, and I know everything there is to know about cars. Alls I had to do was look at the make and model, and I knew just what type and size of lug nuts he needed.

"Oh, alright then. We'll go to the DX station and see what we can do."

**Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it, and if you did, please review!**


	3. Monday Part 2

**Dsiclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

**One Hell of a Week**

**Chapter 2 Part 2: Monday**

Stealing them lug nuts was gonna be a whole different matter, and I don't even know how we done it, but we fuckin' _done_ it. Across from the DX station is a shifty joint called Geno's Tire and Wheel and the owner, Geno, is a slimy mother fucker. I worked with him on occasion; the bastard taught me how to change my very first tire. But as I grew big, he got weirder and weirder, and stranger and stranger. He never trusted nobody to work with him, except his dyke daughter, Lucy. I wasn't allowed back.

So anyways, we tracked down Sodapop at the DX station and got him to go on break. I told him and Dally to scuffle it out in front of the shop to cause a diversion. When Geno came out to break up the hood-fight in his fucking parking lot, I'd sneak in the back way and grab me some lug nuts.

Everything was going just fucking dandy. I heard Geno run outside, cussin' Dally and Sodapop for being "no good, lousy, Satan-loving, white trash fightin' before the eyes of the good Lord!" Or something to that effect. I ran inside rummaging through them drawers chock full of lug nuts, and I found the right ones, no big deal. But then my stupid-ass nicked a table, and a box full of metal tire valves crashed to the ground with a hell-raising clatter. Everything went quiet outside.

"Who's there!" demanded an angry, female voice from one room over. It was Lucy. Now I ain't scared of no broads or nothin', just for the record. But Lucy…she ain't a broad I'd soon cross.

"Shit!" I hissed, droppin' to my knees. I crawled under a workbench, hiding behind a garbage can.

From my spot, I could see Lucy. The broad was _huge_. Her arms rippled with muscles, and not in the way fit girls looked. No, her arms were fucking _beefy_ and they looked like Darry's. Her black hair was tied in a no-bullshit ponytail, and she was brandishin' a wrench. "I know you in here," she drawled, her beady eyes fixed on the scattered mess of tire valves. "And I'mma find you and break yo' thieving ass into teeny, tiny pieces."

I gulped. Slowly, her big, clown feet padded across the room, around stacks of tires, around work tables. Every step kicked up dust and the scuff grew louder as she got nearer and nearer. Shit, if she finds me, she's gonna knock me senseless! Silently, I crawled out from round the garbage can, still hidden by the workbench. She was so close and I could hear her breathing and heart beat. I waited 'til she cautiously turned her back to me.

It was either do something crazy now or get my skull beat in with a wrench. I swiped the bitch's feet out from under her. She screamed like a fucking banshee and landed with a huge crash. I was outta there running like the dickens. I didn't turn round to see what happened to the ape-woman; I just booked it outta there.

"Baby! I'm comin' for ya!" I heard the front door slam and Geno's voice from the other side of the shop. I was already out the backdoor.

"Git 'im daddy! It's a dirty hood!"

I was scrambling up a fence into the neighboring lot when I heard the cock of a fucking shotgun! Oh shit! As I dove behind a dumpster and rolled to my feet, I nearly crashed head-on into Soda and Dally.

"Hey man!" Soda said brightly. "Did ya get the lug nuts?"

"We'll fuckin' talk later, man!" I hollered, getting back up. "The asshole's gonna shoot!"

They didn't need no twice telling. The threes of us sprinted up the road and took a detour through a few alleyways. We stopped behind a derelict shopping plaza that shut down about three fucking months ago. I leaned my back against the bricks, panting like a damn dog. Soda had his hands on his knees, sucking in air like he ain't never breathed in his life. Dally was grinning like a madman. He lived for this shit.

"Lug nuts…did ya…get 'em?" Soda gasped.

I nodded. "Yeh, I got 'em. Geno's crazy daughter wanted to break my skull in, but I got 'em."

Once we was pretty sure it was safe, Soda traipsed on back to work, and me and Dally headed back to the Dairy Queen.

"Thanks for comin' through for me, asshole." Dally said. We was walking by each other's sides, but he didn't turn to look me in the eye as he said it.

"Yeh, whatever." I grumbled.

I wondered if Dally knows what kind of shit he's responsible for. I'll always love the crazy bastard, but he damn near got me killed. This was only the first day of a crazy week, but it was enough excitement to last me through next month.

**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review.**


	4. Tuesday

**On Tuesday, the boys play tetherball. What could possibly happen?**

**Thank you so much to anyone who read and enjoyed this, and especially to the few that reviewed. I really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

**One Hell of a Week**

**Chapter 3: Tuesday**

Tuesday came and once again, everyone but me and Dally had some place fuckin' important they needed to be. Dally wanted to hang out with his little buddy Johnny, but we had to wait 'til he got out of school. That's right, Johnny dragged his ass—or maybe got his ass dragged—to school two days in a row! What the hell is this world comin' to when the kids actually _wanna_ be in school?

Anyways, I met up with Dal once I got off my part-time at the DX station. The boss was giving me hell again. Why, if he wasn't paying me so consistently, I'd have half a mind to teach him a thing or two about fuckin' manners. But I'm a big man, I ain't no whiny bitch, so I walked it off, and the twos of us went to get Johnny.

Me and Dally searched high and low, but unfortunately, the dark little twerp was nowhere to be found. We checked all the usual hideouts—the Curtis' couch, the lot, we went back to the park…hell, we even checked his house and got spat at by his psychotic old man. But he wasn't in any of them places.

So where does his scrawny ass turn up? Behind the old elementary school with Little Curtis, and the two are collidin' with each other on the swings, laughing about some book they was reading together. I always known Ponyboy was a little fruity, but now he's been reading to Johnny, for _pleasure_, or some weak shit like that. And Johnny likes it! He carries a switchblade in one dusty little mitt of his, and a copy of _Kon-Tiki_ by Thor Hey-er-somethin' in the other. What the hell is up with that?

The two kids was all excited to see us coming, and they jumped off the swings, trippin' over their feet as they ran up to us. It's kinda nice, I guess, when two people look so happy to see _your_ mug. I kinda like that. It almost made me forget for a second what a little pussy, tag-along Ponyboy is. But him and Johnny was beaming up into our faces. It was like me and Dal had sunshine coming out our asses, and it made me forget.

"You Greasers got somethin' fun for us to do?" Johnny asked, elbowin' his scrawny ass past me so he could stand by Dally.

Dally mussed up Pony's stupid looking blonde hair, and put Johnny into a head-lock. He started walking through the schoolyard, draggin' Johnny along. He squinted his eyes across the lot and focused in on a pack of little elementary school brats playing leap-frog down by the tetherball posts. "How'd you little shits like to lose some teeth in tetherball?" He asked, a dangerous smirk spreading across his elfish mug.

And they all ran down to those damn posts, but me, I walked. The only reason he wanted to play thetherball was to mess with them little kids. Ain't nobody hates little kids more than old Dally. It would end with them cryin' for sure. The only "little" thing Dally's ever liked is Johnny.

"C'mon, c'mon, me and Johnny first," Dally hollered, excitedly untangling the rope. Johnny got set up across from him.

He served the ball hard enough to knock your fucking head off if you weren't careful. Johnny was ready and he whacked it back, skidding a little on the stones. The two of them batted it back and forth, the ball flyin' faster'n any tetherball should go, before Dally—the fuckin' cheater that he is—hit the rope rather than the ball and sent it round and round the pole.

Johnny wasn't gonna say nothing so I called Dally out. "Hey asshole, you cheated."

He was on the far side of the pole from me, but I could still see his death-glare. "Say it again, mother fucker," he dared.

"You cheated. You can't hit the rope, stupid."

"Steve, I don't really mind much," Johnny told me. "We could just play it again—"

But he was cut off, and I was thrown off my fucking feet by the tornado named Dallas Winston. I rolled my ass up and was off running round the schoolyard, Dally hot on my heels. I veered around and around, noticing the kids watching us. But then all the sudden, I was making a bee-line straight for Ponyboy.

"Get outta the way, you peroxide-headed shit!" I shouted and he jumped back. We was really running like bulls now and he'd catch me soon.

"C'mon Pony, play me a round." I heard Johnny say. He'd grown disinterested in the chase.

"Okay," said Ponyboy. Was the twos of them really gonna play tetherball while Dally attempted to kill me? Damn them kids.

Finally Dally caught me and he tackled me hard. I felt my head thunk on the ground and we scuffled and rolled all across the schoolyard. I could hear Johnny and Pony laughing and hitting that tetherball in the background. We stopped rolling and I was dizzy enough to puke up my lunch, but wouldn't be able to 'cause Dally had me by the throat.

"Don't call me a fuckin' cheater, asshole," he said dangerously.

"Sorry," I gasped tryin' for a grin.

I was amazed when he instead of killing me, he rubbed dirt in my hair, which I'd spent twenty fucking minutes getting perfect this morning. "What'chu lookin' at, huh?" I heard him shout, eyes locked on them children.

The kids was stunned. They looked at us like we was monsters. Probably because their fucking parents told them all the time that guys like us was monsters. Well, didn't guys like Pony and Johnny save kids like them from a fucking fire? We Greasers never get no fucking breaks! Anyways, one little boy looked up at Dally and said, "You're mean."

Instantly, the schoolyard went silent, except for the clang of the tetherball as it finally wrapped round the pole. Everyone was watching Dally and the little kid. Dally slowly rose and the kid started trembling. He was right to be scared. Dally flicked out his switch. Here we go. I fucking knew it.

But instead of towering over the kid, Dally went back to the tetherball post where Pony and Johnny were pleadin' at him to stop with their eyes. He ignored them, cutting the rope clear off the pole. He started swinging the tetherball over his head like the cowboys do lassos in the rodeo.

"Wanna play tetherball, punk?" Dally looked deadly as he flicked the tetherball out, catching the kid in the gut. The fucker fell backwards, completely winded. And all his little friends started cryin' and runnin' every which way. Laughing like the madman that he is, Dally bonked him repeatedly with the tetherball. At least it wasn't hard enough to hurt him, just scare him.

"C'mon Dally, enough of that."

Of course, little Johnny Cade ran in to save the day. Dally would never do nothin' for too long if Johnny raised a fuss. I had to laugh when Johnny jumped on Dal's back, doing nothing to stop his wrath, except make him swing the tetherball while giving a piggy-back ride. It was even fucking funnier when Johnny wrapped his dark, little arms over Dally's face, rendering the blonde shit-blind. Well, it was enough to make him drop the damned tetherball and try and fling Johnny off.

"Johnny, getchyer ass offa me."

I used the time to snatch up the tetherball and move it. Pony snatched up the squalling kid and moved _it_ as Johnny got flung to the ground.

Once everybody'd had the chance to calm the fuck down, I pulled Johnny up. He was no worse for the wear because he knows Dally won't never really hurt him. The little kid was holding onto Ponyboy, still cryin' his ugly eyes out. Why do these kids trust Ponyboy? He looks just as much a Greaser as the rest of us.

The kid peeked up at Dally from under Pony's arm. "You're mean!" He cried. "You're mean to me and you're mean to my mommy!"

Huh? Then I did a fucking double-take! This was the same fucking kid from yesterday at the Dairy Queen! The one who's mama Dally spooked.

Dally was laughing. "Oh shit, it's the kid from DQ!" He clutched his stomach, laughin' so hard it looked like he was gonna boot. I guess it was that fucking funny to him.

"Guys, let's get outta here." I said, once Dally'd had his giggles.

I dunno, I like getting into scuffles with Dally and all. He's fun to fight alongside of. But I hate it when he messes with broads or children. It just makes me fucking uncomfortable, that's all. I ain't trying to be soft, but it really ain't right messin' with little 'uns. I know Pony and Johnny hate it too.

"Hey Dally?" Johnny asked in that quiet way of his as we made our way down the road.

"Whadda ya want, punk?" He slung an arm round the kid's shoulders and messed up his hair.

"No more jumpin' little kids, okay?"

He swung Johnny around by the collar and playfully threw him into Ponyboy. "Fine, the only fucking kids I'mma ever mess with again is the twos of you!"

It was funny watching them as they rough-housed their way down the street. It was only Tuesday, and Dally was already getting' everybody all riled up. He's so fucking insane. I sure do hope he keeps that promise and never hurts another goddamned kid, though.

**Thanks for making it to the bottom! Does anybody have any suggestions or comments on how I can improve? Please read and review!**


	5. Wednesday

**On Wednesday, the boys experiment with bologna and paintjobs.**

**Hi guys, I'm going away later tonight (10 June) and won't be back too update for over a week. Thank you to the few who have reviewed this story. I love comments! (Nudge, nudge)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

**One Hell of a Week**

**Chapter 4: Wednesday**

Two-Bit and Soda said they'd be here at 9 PM to pick me up outside the Dairy Queen. Well, it was 9:47 and the sun went down over an hour ago. They was late beyond any fucking explanation. So now I was sitting at this filthy damn table with about a thousand pieces of gum stuck to it, chewing a sandwich that tasted like what I imagine ass tastes like.

Damn Soda and Two-Bit! They said they'd be here, but I'm outside like some sorta teenybopper waiting for a ride. We was all supposed to get tanked up on some liquid-courage—well, me and Two-Bit was gonna anyways—and crash the slumber party Evie and Sandy was throwing. But even if the guys got me _right now_, we'd still be later'n hell, and Evie would never let me hear the end of it.

I was running through all the possible ways to give them a fucking piece of my mind when someone grabbed my neck from behind. My heart started jumping, and instinctively, I dropped my chin so the asshole couldn't choke off my airway. I reached behind me and grabbed fistfuls of hair while stomping a foot and biting the thug on the arm.

"Ow! Shit, son, is that any way to treat an angel like me?"

I let go of my attacker and turned round to see Dally's fucking elf-face grinning at me. Johnny stood behind him, his head down, peering up through the tops of his eyes.

"If you's an angel, than I'm a fuckin' ballerina," I said, grasping his and Johnny's hands in greeting.

"Then getchyer tutu on, twinkle-toes." Dally said, adding his own gum-wad to the table. I punched him in the arm.

"What'chu two hoodlums doin' over in these parts?" I asked playfully, shoving my half-eaten sandwich and coke at them. Dally shook his head, but Johnny took it.

"Just rescuin' this little punk from a beat-down at home is all," Dally answered, He thumped Johnny on his back, making him gag a bit and almost spray me with chewed food. "I got another loogie hawked at me to go with the one I got yesterday." I smirked, remembering how Johnny's asshole father had spat at us.

"Sorry 'bout him," Johnny said in a low voice, polishing down the rest of the sandwich. Dally ruffled his hair. Ain't no amount of snot or spit would keep Dally from helping him out, and Johnny knew it.

"D'you want more of that?" I nodded to the empty sandwich paper. By the way he fucking inhaled the thing, I knew he'd eat more if I gave it to him.

"Naw man, it's okay. I ain't that hungry."

"A'ight, but don't give me no bullshit," I warned. "They's closing the DQ soon so don't go changin' your mind in a few minutes." It was hotter'n hell, and I wasn't feeling too patient after being left stranded for near an hour. "Have any y'all seen Two-Bit or Soda?" I decided to ask them. "They was supposed to get me at nine."

Dally shook his head, but Johnny said, "I seen Soda. He puked on the Curtis' floor earlier."

"What-chu mean, puke on the floor?" I demanded. "We're all supposed to be goin' out tonight. Bein' sick ain't part of the plan."

"Sorry man," Johnny told me, "Old Darry didn't look to keen on letting him outta the house."

"That's fucking great." My evening was shot.

"Hey, relax, Steve," Dally said coolly, flinging some pop bottle caps from his pockets at two girls on the sidewalk. They threw him nasty looks and hurried on. "You don't need them. You can roll with us cool kids tonight. So long as Johnny don't think you'll wreck our reputation."

"I'll show you some reputation—" I laughed, tugging on Dally's collar, but was rudely interrupted by the screech of shredding rubber and loud music. A pale pink Chevy Bel Air rolled up, riding all low and shit. It had a new reel-to-reel 8track; not a bad vehicle.

"Wow, that's a tuff car," Johnny said quietly, picking up sandwich crumbs with his fingers. Five Socs piled out. I laughed. The kid thinks every Soc car is tuff.

I glared at the backs of their ugly Soc heads as they sauntered into the DQ, thinking they hot shit in their brand new madras shirts and corduroys. Ain't anyone ever told them they look like assholes? Well, anyways, Johnny stiffened. Socs in large numbers make him jumpy. So I broke the tension by shooting spitballs at him with my soda straw.

Dally's eyes were narrowed to slits, dartin' between the Socs, their Bel Air, and for some reason, the corner store next door. Man, he can really look like a shifty mother fucker when he wants it. And I know that face. Whenever he gets that look, some shit's gonna happen. "Hey, hey, listen guys." I nailed him the forehead with a spitball, so he slugged me and broke my straw. Bastard. "I heard somewhere that puttin' bologna on a car strips the paint job off!"

His crazy eyes were riling up Johnnycakes; exactly the effect he wanted. "Do you think it works?" Johnny asked me. After all, I'm the resident car expert.

Truth be told, I don't know _nothing_ about no paint jobs and bologna, but I didn't want the guys to know I didn't know. "Where the hell we gonna get bologna anyways?"

"Leave it to me. That codger over there just bought himself a nice, big pack of it."

I looked over to the corner store to see an unlucky old man walking to his car, clutchin' a box of bologna in his veiny ol' hand. I didn't even ask how Dally could spot bologna from way over here. Well, I couldn't ask him, because in a flash, he'd crossed the parking lot and was screaming in the old gent's face.

"Where's the bologna? _Do you have bologna_?" Dally hollered like a madman, waving his arms. The codger screamed. Dally flapped. Johnny bit his lip, stifling a grin. I laughed loudly, but was afraid he'd either pull his switch on the guy or get the fuzz called on his ass.

"Here! It's right here!" Hell, I almost felt bad for the oldy as he pleadingly brandished the meat; I knew Johnny did. But it was just too damn funny. He was cringing away from Dally, and the moment he swiped the package, the guy scuttled off, scared shitless. "You'll pay for this when you meet your maker, Sonny!" He cried as a parting shot, and was gone.

"Bologna." Dally said proudly, strutting back across the lot and dropping it heavily onto the table.

I shook my head, laughing at his gall, and Johnny eyed the package distastefully. "I don't like bologna no more," he said.

"Well, we ain't askin' ya to eat it." Moments later, we have the package open and the threes of us was decoratin' the Soc-mobile in pink circles of mystery meat. Dally's eyes were dancing and Johnny could barely keep his shit under control he was so excited.

When we was done, we scrambled round the side of the DQ, hoppin' up and over the chain link fence. We hid in the long shadow of the building. I was pretty curious of what would happen as the bologna baked and dried in the evening heat. Johnny grabbed my arm and pulled me deeper into the shadows as the door to the DQ swung open. The Socs emerged, arms full of fast food. They nearly shit themselves when they saw the car.

"The fuck is this shit?" One twit asked, making the mistake of grabbing a few slices and yanking them off, taking scratchy lines of paint with them.

"Oh shit!" I yelled as Dally almost barfed up a lung laughin'. I couldn't believe this bologna trick worked! We Greasers was in stitches.

They spun around to face us. Their expressions looked like they was tryin' to shit whole lemons. "We'll kill you, Grease!" Another madras wearing loser busted his pop bottle on a nearby fence, brandishin' the shank at us like we was gonna be scared or something. Asshole, we as on the other side of a fence! What's that busted bottle gonna do!

But before they could act, we was off runnin'. Me and Johnny had tears in our eyes. Not the pussy cryin' tears, but the tuff tears from laughin' too hard. Dally's face was red. We ran for about a quarter-mile, weaving in and out of side streets 'til we was sure those fuckers wouldn't be able to find us. We ended up in some middle class neighborhood with row houses and gardens. I ain't never been there before. Dally and Johnny collapsed onto the sidewalk, holdin' they guts from all the laughter and exhaustion.

"That was fuckin' _amazin'_!" Dally yelled.

We just about caught our breath when a tiny, accusing voice piped up around the corner. "That's them, pa! Them's the guys who done it!"

"Huh?" We looked up to see an ugly little kid and a beefy older prick standing behind him. I knew the fucker. He was the very same kid from the park yesterday and the DQ the day before.

"Well, well, well," said the older guy in a thick drawl. "So you little shits like to jump small boys and they mothers?"

We got to our feet and Dally snorted. "Well, I like to jump they mothers…in the sack!"

The guy pursed him lips, so his fat fuckin' cheeks ballooned out like a bullfrog's. "Watch it, hood. That's my wife you talkin' about."

Johnny and I stood tall beside Dally in case this fucker tried to do anything. I had a bad feeling 'bout all this. We shouldn't knock the shit outta some guy while his kid is watchin'.

"What'chu gonna do 'bout it?" Dally sneered. His hands were curled into fists and one of Johnny's hovered over his back pocket. He'd have his switch out if things got messy.

The guy may have been a huge mother fucker, but he was smart. It was a three-on-one, bad odds for him. Besides, we was Greasers and we looked dangerous—he didn't know who had a knife or who was packin' heat.

"Well…all y'all better stay away from my kid…" He warned, turnin' slowly, His eyes paused on each one of us for a second. We wasn't scared and he fucking knew it, so he guided his brat away. "C'mon Eric." Before they rounded the corner, the kid—Eric—spun round and stuck his tongue out at Dally.

"Boo!" Dally hollered, and the kid jumped and ran for it. It set us off laughin' again.

We headed back to our neighborhood, talkin' loudly and rough housing on the sidewalks like we always do. "Man," Dally said, "that was a fuckin' blast!" He head-locked Johnny and ruffled his hair. "I feel so _alive_! Y'all ain't never afraid to fight. All ya'll is great guys for havin' my back." He made some obnoxious noises, forcing some people to cross the street before they had to pass us.

"Yeah, yeah, shoot, Dally," said Johnny pushing the elf-faced hell-raiser off of him.

"How 'bout you, man?" Dally asked shoving me into a wire fence. "I know you ain't seein' Evie right now, but did we show your whiny ass a good time?"

"Shoot, I guess so," I said. Evie was still gonna rip me a new one, and I was a little ticked at Soda for gettin' sick all over the Curtis' floor.

"C'mon man, it ain't Soda's fault he got sick. And Evie'll forgive ya." Johnny said carefully. It was if he could read my fucking mind or something. I wasn't super close to Johnny, but I appreciated that.

"Fuck you for being so reasonable." I told him as we made it safely back to our turf.

I still can't believe all the things we do as a gang, as friends…and especially, all the things we fuckin' done this week.

**So that's Wednesday's adventure. Lately, I've gotten some faves and alerts on this story. I'd really love to hear your opinions too. (Sorry for being so pushy). Thanks!**


	6. Thursday

**On Thursday, Steve siphons gas. No big deal, right?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

**One Hell of a Week**

**Chapter 5: Thursday**

Shift started early down at the DX Thursday morning. Me and Sodapop was each manning a pump, gassing up early commuters' tanks. Poor guy was still sick and green, and breathin' in all them fumes couldn't'a been doin' his lungs any good. He apologized for stranding me at the DQ, but I wasn't too pissed seein' as he's was still sick as a dog. We went about our day, mindin' our own business, earning some green like the hardworking men that we are when that runt motherfucker Curly Shepherd strolled up to me like I owe him something.

He came out of fucking nowhere; I didn't see him walk in. There he was, chin up, chest puffed out, oil tin and siphon clamped in his fist. "My brother's outta gas."

"Then tell him to eat more beans!" Soda called from the other pump. The flock of broads watching him from the DX mart giggled loudly. Not even a day-flu could kill his sense of humor.

"His gauge's busted and he ran outta gas faster'n he thought he would. Help us out, would ya man?"

"Fuck, Shepherd." If this was—hell—_Ponyboy_ asking me to risk my job and siphon gas for him, I'd do it in a heartbeat. He's my best pal's kid brother. But this was Shepherd's kid brother and I didn't owe him shit.

"You're the car expert." The punk was pleading at me with his eyes.

People have been sayin' that to me a lot lately…to get what they want.

Soda flicked his windshield washer at me, spraying my back. "C'mon Steve, we can help the little man out, can't we?"

I sighed. Was I about to risk my fucking neck for Little Shep? I looked round and my eye fell on a red El Camino partially blocked behind a huge Chevy C-10. "Fine," I said, "Pop the gas cap of that Camino."

Soda saluted me. "Aye Captain!"

"Not you, buddy. This little shit." I nodded to Shepherd and he slinked away. "Get'cher tubing deep enough into the tank and blow some bubbles," I commanded. "Soda man, can you make sure ain't nobody comes outta the mart? 'Specially not the boss?"

"Aye Captain!" He repeated. He's one goofy cat even when he's sick. He tried to look excited, but his eyes were still glassy and weary.

"Alright Curly," I looked over my shoulder makin' sure nobody was watching us do this job. "You make a loop with this here tubing. Let gravity do the work for ya…that's it, you got it. Make gravity your bitch." I showed him the right technique, holding the hose above the gas line. "Now suck on it, punk."

He wrapped his mouth around the free end and sucked. The little shit had no idea what he was doing, but soon, the liquid flowed up the tubing.

"Into the can, idiot! You don't wanna do it a second time!"

He got a mouthful of the stuff, but enough made it into the can. He coughed and spat, thumpin' on his chest. I was laughin' at the fucking mini-hood, when Soda stumbled out of the mart, flappin' his arms at me like some kind of lunatic parrot. Some diversion.

"Get lost, asshole!" I hissed.

Curly's shirttail barely made it around the corner when boss-man came flying outta the mart, starin' me down. I leaned against the Camino, replacing the gas cap behind my back with one hand while spinning a curl all natural-like with the other. Hot damn, I musta looked so guilty!

"The fuck's goin' on out here Randle?"

"Ain't nothin'," I replied.

"Step away from that El Camino, then."

I did as I was told. Thank god Curly remembered the fucking tubing. The only remnants of the job were a few splashes where the mini-punk spat. The boss looked for some shit to accuse me of, but there wasn't nothing concrete to blame on me. To my surprise, some girl, one of Soda's admirers, tapped my boss on the shoulder.

He turned slowly, the big lug, and looked her up and down. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to say, sir, that I was out here the whole time, and that young man didn't do anything criminal at all."

The boss leered from her to me, and once his piggy eyes was fixed on _my_ mug, I catch her winkin' at me from behind his back!

"I'm watchin' you Randle. Geno ain't sayin' nothin' complimentary 'bout'chu lately…" He gave me one more scowl before lumbering off.

I thanked the girl for her lying, and she smiled at me. Sometimes people up and do nice things for you and it's real shocking.

Anyways, our shift finally ended. I was leading Soda home—he got greener and more puke-happy as the day went on—and tellin' him about the lying broad when another hood sidled up to us outta nowhere.

"What'chu want, Greaser?" I asked. He took a friendly swing at my head. It was Dally.

The punk told us, "You boys'll never guess what I just did."

"You stole all the rolls of toilet paper from the local church fundraiser?" Soda put some thought into it.

Dally stared at him. "No." He paused, "but that ain't a bad idea."

"Go on, what'chu do, Greaser?" I asked.

"I siphoned gas from Tim Shepherd's junker and fucked with the gauge to make it look full! Man, you shoulda seen the prick cuss out in front of about ten broads. Fuckin' priceless!" I could feel the heat rising in my face as he told us this shit. "And then," he continued, "Tim sends Little Shep on a fuckin' goose-chase to fill up a nasty ass oil can. Hey…why ain't you motherfuckers laughing? This is a good fuckin' story!"

"Dally, you motherfucker! _I_ gave Curly the filler-up at work and I coulda lost my job!" I hollered all in one breath, wringing my hands.

He didn't look sorry for one second, but he biffed me in the arm and smacked my head for cussin' at him. "Oh shit!" He laughed, hoppin' a ways down the street. "I had no idea he'd go to the DX!" Yeah, it was one big fucking joke to Dally.

"C'mon Steve, it was a little bit funny," Soda said, grabbing at the back of my neck.

I shrugged him off. "Get'cher germy mitts off me, Sodapop."

"Oh, sorry." He coughed into his hands, then ran after me, trying to rub them on my fuckin' face. Gross.

We caused scenes and acted rambunctious all the way to Soda's house. It seems like I been doing this a lot this week—getting' into some kind of adventure and then rough-housing on the street once it's over. Damn Dally don't mean nothin' by it, but he's been fucking me over a lot this week! Something's sure gonna explode soon and it better not be my goddamned head. I worked hard on my hair this morning.

Darry was out in the front lawn of the Curtis' house, repairing a fence. Superman looked haggard; his brother was sick and all. But then again, Darry always looks one step away from bat-shit insanity. Poor guy's patience is even thinner than them treads on Johnny's sneakers.

"Darry, we're gonna go watch the ponies this weekend. You in?" Dally asked.

The older guy looked up and greeted us. "Maybe."

"How 'bout you two hoods?"

"I'll go, so long as I ain't barfing up my lungs by then," said Soda, and Dally looked at me.

"Yeah, I'm in." If I can even make it to the weekend.

**Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	7. Friday

**Finally finishing this story after some time. Yay! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**The Outsiders**_

**One Hell of a Week**

**Chapter 6: Friday**

"Steve, are you okay?"

"Shaddup, Ponyboy," I snap. It's loud and wild at the racetrack and we got us some killer seats in the bleachers above the straightaway. I need myself this one day to unwind and have some fun after this hellish week. I close my eyes and the image of a wrench-wielding Lucy, the female auto mechanic, flashes across my mind. Damn, she's scary! She's built like a brick shit-house and she wants me dead. I shake my head to clear it.

"Are you sure? You ain't lookin' so good," Johnny adds, and I see that my knuckles are ghost-white from grippin' the railing in front of me.

"Shaddup, Johnnycakes."

I look down at the guys in the pit below me, and I can tell they's even trashier than me. Their all getting' tanked on cheap booze and taking bets with money they probably don't have. It won't surprise me one bit when a brawl starts down there. I watch one dude double-fist his beers and talk some shit to another guy who spits at him. I tear my eyes away and look over their heads at the track. I don't wanna see nobody fight today. I just want it calm. I watch as the ponies get ushered to the gate for the next race.

Darry and Two-Bit join the rest of us in the stands with their arms full of drinks. I can tell by the labels that they purchased them here at the track and didn't smuggle 'em in. This'll obviously piss Dally off to no end 'cause Dally don't like honesty. I can also tell that Two-Bit's already had a few to drink by the way he's swayin'.

"A beer for you, m'lady?" Two-Bit asks me with an impish smirk. I narrow my eyes. I want the beer, but I don't want to take it if he's called me a lady. Two-Bit's grin deepens. "C'mon, I'm just messin' with ya, punk!"

I relax a little and take the beer, poppin' the cap off on my belt and taking a long gulp. It's almost like I can feel the liquid flowing through me, relaxin' me down. It's nice and I like it. I watch as Darry hands his two little brothers and Johnny some soda pops. Of course Two-Bit can't pass up this opportunity for a lame-ass obvious pun.

"Hey-ey!" He shouts loudly, "a soda pop for Sodapop!" before doubling up laughing at his own stupid joke.

"I could see that comin' a mile away," I say, and I almost feel a little guilty because my voice is like a snarl.

"Relax, man," Dally says to me. "You been actin' like a broad on her period all week. Is that what's been happenin'?" His ice blue eyes narrow at me. "You on the rag?"

"Fuck yourself."

"Aw, what's wrong? Lil' Miss Tampon String can't take a joke?"

"Shut the fuck up!" I holler and some people turn 'round to stare at me. Darry fixes me a glare. He don't want me cursing in front of the kids. I try to ignore my so called friends as the next race starts. I watch Soda go nuts over horse number six. He may still be sick and all, but since he's invested financially in the race, my boy Sodapop was jumping up and down cheering for his horse.

Dally sidles up behind me. "What's gotten into you, ya little shit?" He asks me, his voice low and dangerous. "You been acting like a punk ass all week.

I turn around to stare at him. "Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly. Whatever."

"You."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. You been pissin' me off. You made this one hell of a week."

Dally laughs. "Wow, you actually _are_ like a broad on her monthly! Blaming shit on a man. Not that I'm like, your boyfriend or nothin'…" he corrects quickly, since Two-Bit is listening in on the conversation. I turn away from him 'cause I don't wanna deal with him, but he grabs my shoulder and turns me around roughly. "Nah man, I'm kiddin', I'm kiddin'. Tell your man Dally why you have a problem with him."

I take another long swig of my beer, tryin' to swallow my anger 'cause I know he's patronizing me. I wait a moment to let the screams from the crowd die down. Pony number six came in second so Sodapop's gonna make a buck or two. Finally, I address Dally.

"All this week you been getting' on my nerves."

"Yeah?" Hissed Dally, "and how so?"

"Them lug nuts. I nearly got my skull dented by that fucking Lucy broad. Then the tether ball game, and the bologna. And then there was yesterday! I coulda lost my job siphoning that gas and it was you who fucked with Shep's car in the first place!" I realized I sounded a little whiny, but I didn't care none. This had to be said.

I expected Dally to tell me to grow a set and get over it, but instead he smirked at me. "I'm sorry man. Didn't realize you was so upset by my actions."

I stared at him. It was not the response I expected. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." He paused for a second and looked up like he was thinking real hard about somethin'. "Listen punk, just wait here for a bit, 'kay?"

"Huh?"

"Just stay here and watch the ponies."

I was a little confused. I mean, where else was I going to go? I'd come here to watch the damn ponies after all. But before I could tell him so, Dally was jumping out of the stands, headed for the exit. He was knocking people out of his way, leavin' loads of pissed off drunks in his wake.

"Watch it, punk!" I heard one of the boozers down below shout.

Two-Bit nudged me, nodding in Dally's direction. "Where's he hot-footin' it to?"

"Beats the hell outta me," I said truthfully. I couldn't be bothered worryin' about where Dally got off to. It weirded me out, him apologizing to me and all. I shrugged my shoulders and turned my attention to Ponyboy. I nudged the little shit with my elbow.

"Yes?" He looked up at me.

"Beer me." I stuffed my empty into his hand and waited 'til he got me a new one from Two-Bit, who'd gone to chat up some girl.

I sipped my second beer and settled down between Johnny and Darry to watch the next races, determined to have a good time.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo OoOo

It was about an hour later when Dally returned. I was on my fifth beer and having a great time. Two-Bit's new gal friend had come to sit with us and she brought a few of her broad friends too, which was nice. Soda had won another dollar, and even Ponyboy was bein' good and not his usual piss-ant self.

"Alright man," Dally walked right up to me. I noticed he was holding a paper bag. "Here."

"What's this?" I ask suspiciously, taking the bag.

He shrugs and waits for me to open it. Inside is two 40's, a bottle of hair gel, a carton of Kool's and a roll of those fancy latex condoms with the reservoir tips or whatever they're called. I had a feeling everything here was stolen.

"The hell is all this?" I asked him, downright confused.

"For your troubles," he said with a smirk.

"For my troubles?"

"Yeah, for your troubles. You been a good friend this week and it seems that I didn't make that easy for ya to be, so I got you some ultimate man stuff to…ya know, apologize."

The rest of the gang had been listening to the exchange. "Hey look!" Two-Bit cried, "Dally got Randle a manly gift basket!" And everyone laughed.

Dally slugged him. "It ain't no gift basket!" He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the 40's. "Mind if I start on one of these?"

I don't know why, but I was overcome with this wave of emotion. I think it had to do with all the beers I'd tanked, because before I could stop myself, I was throwing my arms around Dally's neck hugging him. He clapped me twice on the back before pushing me off.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, cracking the 40 and taking a long swig.

For the rest of the night, I was elated and nice, even to Ponyboy. Dally was a good cat after all. I'm lucky to have a friend like him, one who gives me manly stolen goods and whatnot. That, to me, is a fine consolation for one hell of a week.


End file.
